


private schools are too expensive

by rocket_rach



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mary Grayson is Dick and Barbara's child, also for having such a cute lil bb, and Bruce loves his first grandchild more than anyone else hes ever met in his life ever, shoutout to toni for the great design for my blog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 18:45:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocket_rach/pseuds/rocket_rach
Summary: Bruce knows that his granddaughter deserves the world, so he's gonna give her exactly that (after he deals with her school)





	private schools are too expensive

Bruce Wayne thought that Mary was being held by back her school. He’d put on his most intimidating suit, his darkest tie and even had his salt and pepper hair touched by his stylist. He parked the black matte Lamborghini Centenario in the front of gothic style building and stepped out. The wind whipped his hair away from his bearded face, making him thankful that he’d taken his granddaughter’s advice to look “scruffy.” On the other side of the cast-iron gates that guarded the most important person in his life, cameras from Gotham’s paparazzo flashed. He threw them a wink and a wave before heading inside.

The walls of Gotham Academy showed the charity of Gotham City’s old money. Granite floors that were polished to perfection, clicked under Bruce’s oxfords as he strode towards the main office. He’d received a call from the very same office a mere 30 minutes ago, asking him to come at once. Since Dick and Barbara were both on a “charity mission” (sent to Rann at the very last minute because of an attempted war by Darkseid,) Bruce had been watching his granddaughter. The gilded chandeliers lit his path, his shadow reaching down the pristine hallway. He pushed open the dark cherry wood door.

“Mr. Wayne!” The office assistant squeaked. “I- Uh, we didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I assumed it was an emergency from the message.”

“Uh, I mean, I’ll just let the principal explain it to you,” she reached the intercom button to announce that the billionaire was there, but Bruce had already let himself in. “…please, go on in. _Fucking billionaire_ s,” she whispered after the door slammed shut.

In Principal Borgia’s office, Mary was sitting as far away from him as possible. She was wearing her usual uniform of school approved knee-length shorts, tall socks, shoes that sparkled in the fluorescent lights and a pout more powerful than any one Bruce had ever seen on her father’s face. He went to her side quickly, dropping to his knee so they were eye to eye.

“What happened, princess?” He asked, his calloused thumbs tilting her chin up. 

She simply stared back at him with tearful, defiant, and familiar blue eyes.

“Mister Wayne,” Principal Borgia began, his mustache shaking. “I called you in here because Mary was involved in an altercation in physical education today.”

Bruce stood and offered his hand to Mary, who quickly took it. “She got into a fight?”

“By all accounts.”

Bruce sat in the chair opposite from the Principal. Mary dragged the chair closer to him, the wood scraping against the floor until she was content. She sat.

“By all accounts?” Bruce asked once the sound of wood grating across stone was finished. “There were accounts?”

“Mary struck another student. The tutor indicated that they had been talking in a corner when suddenly Mary lashed out. It took two adults to separate them. Now, here at Gotham Academy we have set rules. Rules that must be—”

Bruce turned to face Mary. “Were you being bullied?”

She pulled her hands underneath her legs, but Bruce had caught the sight of black and purple bruises on her knuckles. “…yes,” she murmured.

“This is the third time she’s been bullied here, Principal Borgia. This is also the third time I’ve been called to this office,” he began as he turned back. “Now, when I went to Gotham Academy, it was a place of kindness and respect. When her father went here, he was offered a safe place that encouraged him to learn and make friends. Admittedly, those were different times. But one would think that having three generations of the same family attend the same institution would mean that my interests would be able to learn and grow. Yet, she talks about how horrible other students are to her. I know that you can’t stop all bullying,” he held up a hand as Borgia opened his mouth. “But I’d like to think that for $60,000 a year that all students would be protected. Tell me, what have you done about the bullies since the last time we talked?”

“The students were reprimanded,” Borgia finally coughed. “We have strike system that we take very seriously here—”

“Obviously not. This is the third strike, and yet Mary is the only one sitting in this office. For the amount of money we’re paying for her to attend here, I expected better. I’ll be pulling her out for the rest of the day. If you change your mind about who’s in trouble here, call my secretary. Mary,” Bruce stood, and was pleased to see his granddaughter jump to her feet at the same time. “Pleasure as always, Borgia.”

Bruce placed his hand in the middle of Mary’s back, guiding them out of the office. He walked slower leaving than entering, so Mary could keep pace with him all the way to car. Once they passed through the school doors, she jumped on him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as they approached his car.

“You okay, princess?” He asked as he squeezed her gratefully.

“My hand hurts a little,” she admitted. Mary buried her face into her grandpa’s neck. 

Bruce leaned down, keeping his grip on Mary while he tried to open the car door for her. His knees were popping in protest, but he didn’t dream of complaining. Mary’s booster seat was strapped in the back and the passenger seat had already been pushed down.

“Just your hand?”

“….No,” she admitted as he dropped her into her seat. 

Bruce watched her buckle herself in, shut the door and then took his own seat. The car purred to life and then they were off, rolling through the gates and through the throngs of paparazzo that had seemingly doubled.

“What was it this time?”

“Same stuff, I guess,” she heaved a sigh too big for her tiny body. “Charity case stuff, I’m only going to G.A., because of who you are. Sometimes I just want to run away from that school and never go back. I don’t even have any friends there, grampa. I like what we’re learning… but I’m lonely. I just want a friend, grampa. Just _one_.”

Bruce moved the car into another gear as they entered the highway. “I thought I was your friend,” he spoke.

“You’re old.”

“Watch it,” He mock-growled, earning a giggle from the back. Once those endearing laughs had stopped, he reached back. Mary’s hand took his, her hand wrapping around his fingers. “You said you want to run away?”

“Well, not _run away_ run away. But go somewhere else for a while.”

“Why don’t we both run away?” He asked.

Bruce looked in the review mirror, rewarded with a smile only _he_ got. Dick’s dimples and Barbara’s smile were a blinding combination on her face.

“You really mean it, grampa?”

“I’d buy the world for you, piglet. No, don’t unbuckle your seatbelt till we get home. Then you can tackle me,” his hand moved to press her back into her seat. “Your parents would kill me.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t let them,” she spoke as she finally stopped squirming.

Twenty minutes later, they were in Mary and Bruce’s favorite room in the manor. Bruce’s study had become over decades of having children romping through it. It was the most lived in room of the manor; with worn leather couches and recliners, stains on the carpets and a dent near the ceiling from one of Dick’s quadruple somersaults. Mary was curled against Bruce’s chest, her head resting on his shoulder while he looked at her hands.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he decided. “You’re just going to have some nasty bruises. There’s some bruise cream in the fridge for that,” Bruce kissed the top of her head. “You’re tough.”

“Tougher than you?”

“Way tougher.”

She buried her face against him, laughing quietly. 

“There’s my girl,” he sighed when she relaxed. “About us running away…”

“I want to go to Toronto!”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to repress a laugh. “Are you sure about Toronto? We could go anywhere in the world, Mary. You just let me know where.”

“I’ve heard Canadians are nice. Maybe I’ll make a friend in Canada,” She leaned up a bit, her smile making Bruce nearly go blind, again.

“Let’s call the jet, Princess,” He grinned back, picking up his granddaughter. They left the study, with Mary telling him all her plans for Canada.

**Author's Note:**

> we stan one salt and pepper grandpa who loves his grandbaby


End file.
